The Chronice of Amon
by Ben Dead Wood
Summary: This story tells the tale of a unique Black Spiral Dancer from the world of darkness esque games.  Amon's life is told, as well as his destiny enfolds in the coming apocalypse.  A very dark and at times tragic tale, not for the faint of heart.
1. Chapter 1

The Chronicle of Amon

A note from the author:

The Chronicle of Amon is set place in the fictional world of White Wolf Games original "World of Darkness" games. Given the nature of these games, and due to the nature of what Amon actually is, it is highly recommended that no one under age read this story, nor anyone who may be easily offended or a bit squeamish, as the subject matter will often take the reader into the very heart of Hell and through the utter madness of the shattered labyrinth through which Amon will sometimes journey through. That said, ye have been warned.

For here, there be monsters...

One:

John "Little Claw" approached the house cautiously. Sniffing the air, he could detect no trace of any other creature near by, and being that he was in his bear form only helped to increase his uncanny sense of smell. Little Claw was one of the last of the Gurhal, the legendary werebears that had stalked the earth acting as the Mothers healers. Gaia, the spirit of the earth, the Mother, had bestowed upon the many changing breeds different gifts and duties, which the spirits had in turn done as well. Then came the War of Rage, when the Garou, or werewolves as they became known as, become murderous, wishing to become the dominate changing breed on the planet. It was only after it was too late that they realized the folly of their arrogance, though there were still whispers of some other, darker reason the War of Rage had happened. But Little Claw was unsure, and after all, the where crows, or Corax just loved to gossip anyways, so who really knew the truth anymore.

Little Claw sniffed again. Nope, the area was clear, and only a hint of musk was still present, but clearly several days old. Shifting into his smaller human form, Little Claw began to feel his clothes that he had used a rite to dedicate to his person, as well as some of the equipment he would need tonight. The ritual had been a long one, but being able to carry your clothes and tools on your person and have them merely appear as tattoos when you were in any other form made it completely worth it. The house ahead lay dark and cold, like a tomb. Little Claw felt a chill crawl up his spine, and quickly used one of his spirit imbued artifacts to "peek" into the Umbra, or spirit world. Nothing. Some spirits, but nothing out of the ordinary. And no banes. Odd, he thought. This was the home of a fallen werewolf, there should be banes lurking outside and in, shouldn't there be? He thought to himself, silently confused. There were rumors about this particular fallen werewolf, though, that had made some of the elders confused, frightened, and more then a little curious. Little Claw, having finally made it through to his third rank among his people, decided that tonight he would show his worth; either this fallen werewolf would be cleansed, or he would be destroyed, and his taint would no longer harm others.

Picking the lock on the front door was no easy task. Apparently the fallen werewolf had a very healthy sense of caution. The lock finally clicked, and Little Claw walked slowly into the house. There was a faint odor in the air, like a radioactive, toxic, burning smell. Little Paw shuddered realizing that the smell had come from Balefire, the toxic flames of the Wyrm. Little Claw thought back to his training, when he was a young man, a newly made cub. The tails singers told of a time when the three aspects onf the worl d had worked in harmony: The Wyld, the formless, chaotic essence of life, the Weaver, that which gave life and form, and the Wyrm, the destroyer and ender of life, giving the energies of life back to the universe. Together they formed athe great balance. Then something went horribly wrong. It was believed that the Weaver became self aware, and in her madness, trapped the Wyrm in her webs. And the Wyrm went made with pain and suffering. Ine it's tormented throws, it became corrupted, and now spawned forth all that was evil in the world. At least that was what the tales singers told the young ones. Then, the tales singers told of the fallenwerewolves, a tribe called the White Howlers, in their over zealotness, went into the Wyrm's home in the umbra, the dread realm known as Malfeas, and took on the Wyr's evil masinachions. What came back was something twisted and evil, calling themselves the Black Spiral Dancers, and it was all the garou could do to hold their fallen brothers and sisters at bay. Over fifteen hundred years had passed since the White Howlers had fallen, and the problem only seemed to be getting worse. Some sought to cleanse them, most believed that all of them should be destroyed. Whispers of more and more Garou falling each year persisted, and the changing breeds feared the worst. Appocalypse was coming, and there was fear that the Gaians, the changing breeds, would lose.

Little Claw shuddered again, shaking the memories of the stories from his mind, He needed to focus, he was in the lair of a supposedly powerful Black Spiral Dancer, and who knew what could happen. Little Claw looked around. The place was clean, very well taken care of. The entry way held a family crest, a ornate coat rack, and an overhead chandelier. The main foway was beautiful and dark, with another chandalier, black candles, and various decorations of a macabre nature (display cases with some skulls, and other occult items of various nature) that Little Claw could scarcely make out, nor did he want to. At the center of the two staircases stood a statue that caught Little Claws attention: it was solid marble, and depicted a beautiful woman with a chin length bob hair cut, in a flowing dress, her arms spread as though to depict the virgin Mary. The statue was obviously lovingly crafted, and a small plaque at the bass of the statue simply read "Rose Gaelo, my love and soul-mate". Little Claw stared at the inscription and read it over and over again. The stories of the Black Spiral Dancers were always of evil, slobbering monsters that loved nothing and cared for nothing save serving their corrupted master. So what the hell was this? A war trophy? No, Little Claw thought, this was not some trophy to be displayed, this was a true labor of love. Little Claw was feeling uneasy. What in the name of Gaia was going on here?

Little Claw moved further into the house. Large as it was, Little claw had no problem figuring the layout of the place. He moved forward into what was obviously the study, and stared in awe. The room was a massive library dedicated to not only understanding the Umbra, but the very nature of the Triad of Wyld, Weaver, and Wyrm. Little Claw looked through the many shelves, examined Umbral maps, and what had to be the rarest of occult tomes. Several caught his eye, one being _der unsprekthicalkultzin_, and a sinister volume which simply read _The Chronicle of the Black Labyrinth_. Little Claw could have spent hours looking through the different books, gathering what he could tell were forbidden secrets the changing breeds could use against the minions of the Wyrm, but tonight was not the night for learning such secrets. He had to learn more about this Black Spiral Dancer who was so peculiar, and either cleanse him or kill him.

Little claw moved further into the room, realizing now that the corruptive taint of the Wyrm lingered in the room. The fireplace was dead, but the smell of the Bailfire which had been burning still clung to the air. Little Claw nearly jumped when he came to the large desk and saw four different framed records and two pictures behind it: the albums belonged to the local artist _Amon_, and in the pictures was a man of maybe twenty seven, with long black hair, and glowing green eyes slightly sunken in a pail face. He was maybe six feet tall, and all things considered, looked very handsome. In the picture beside him was the woman who was so artfully depicted in the statue. The two were holding each other lovingly, and it was obvious that they loved each other deeply. The other image showed the man, Amon, surrounded by an entourage of what could only be other Black Spiral Dancers, some hideously deformed, others not so much, and several bane possessed humans, the much hated Fomori. The caption read "Amon and the order of the followers of the true Wyrm". Little Claw stared in disbelief; this artist, this musician, this man who had so lovingly held onto the woman in the photo, _this_ was the Black Spiral Dancer that had caused so much worry and confusion. A chill ran up Little Claw's spine. This was not what he'd expected to happen, and for the first time, Little Claw felt a trickle of fear run through his mind.

On the desk was a much used and worn leather journal, and a simple black pen next to it. Little Claw picked the journal up, and opened it. The language was utterly alien to Little Claw, similar to the glyphs the changing breeds used, but different, almost...reptilian. Little Claw looked deeper at the language, thinking to himself "I can't help if I don't understand this, what language, what language...?". The writing suddenly burned bright green, and began to reform. Words in plain English suddenly appeared where the odd language had once been, and on the first page was an inscription that utterly stunned and frightened the Gurhal:

_This is the journal of Edrick "Amon" Blackwyrm, Black Spiral Dancer Theurge. Only those of pure heart and intention may read what has been written here, and may it be a guide for those that may one day return the balance to this world. For only when the balance Wyrm, the true form of our dark father is freed, may things be set to right._

Little Claws hands shook. This was not what he was expecting at all. He turned the page, both curious and afraid that what he might read would inexorably destroy his reality.


	2. Chapter 2

The Chronicle of Amon

Two:

_Journal entry one:_

_So much has happened in the past several years, so much loss and triumph, that it sometimes overwhelms me. I think that's why I decided to write this journal, to get everything down on paper and try to make sense of everything that's happened, maybe even to cope with some old wounds. _

_It's taken me a long time to not only understand what I am, but who I am too. Most people would look at me and say I'm a monster. Hell, my "cousins" would agree with that assesment too (and for the record, yes I'm laughing). The truth is, I am a monster. I'm a monster like we're all monsters, but I'm also a monster physically and spiritually. Considering that this book's a fetish designed to only allow myself and those that are open minded and pure of heart to read this, I might as well speak candidly. I'm a werewolf. Well, that was easy enough. But I'm not like my garou cousins, though I think we opperate on the same basic principles, especially those god damn Shadowlords. I really feel sorry for my erstwhile "cousins", though. They fight and die for what they feel is right, for what is good. To them, we're the bad guys, the ultimate villian and nightmare reflected back at them. Well, often times that's not really far off from reality. My tribe's not exactly known for doing particularly pleasent or nice things; quite the contrary, most of us seem to have a knack for being "evil" for the greater...hmm, I don't think good really fits here. Anyways, back on track. I think the reason many of of my cousins "fall to the Wyrm", as they say, and join our side is because they begin to realize the truth. Becoming tainted, as they say is more or less a matter of oppinion. Many of my tribe still, regrefully, seem to be comsumed with following the bastardized corrupted aspect of the Wyrm, and I've often suspected that's what the Garou, my "cousins", claim causes the taint. Actually, that makes perfect sense. Funny, I've never actually thought about it, these things always seemed to come naturally. Hmm, wierd. Any ways..._

_My tribe, the people I come from, are the Black Spiral Dancers. I'm not one of the fallen garou either; this has always been my tribe. Though to say I'm hive born (a Black Spiral Dancer who is born in one our hives, which is often times an underground lair for several packs of our kind), would be inaccurate. I wasn't even aware of any of this until I was about eighteen. I think it would be best to start with my roots, as it were, to get a good understanding on how on the base upon which the rest of my life has been built._

_Journal entry two, my early life, childhood to early teens:_

_I was born at long beach memorial hospital on July thirty first, nineteen eighty. My mother being what she was apparently had no problem giving birth to me, though much to my surprise, I would later discover that I was the only child she ever had, which is unheard of for any Black Spiral Dancer; everyone's encouraged to breed like rabbits and sure up our numbers for the war effort. Frankly, I think it's just an excuse to engage in excess and orgies (and no, I have not "sired any pups"). As a child, I never knew who my father was, and my mother was always disinclined to make any mention of him. All I was ever told was that he was with the spirits, and couldn't be with us. I took it to mean that he was dead._

_My mother was,and still is, the most amazing parent anyone could ever hope to have (again, I think another shocker for anyone who's ever encountered a Spiral before). Not common for my tribe at all; a lot of Spirals Iv'e known over the years had less then ideal childhoods at best, though why mom was any different, who knows. She's always been fiercly protective of me, and when anything would happen to me, she was the first one to become enraged and "take care of it" as she would say. And no, she didn't murder everyone that gave me crap, but I think most of them walked away scared as hell. Mom's a beautiful woman, even to this day; at five six, she has long black hair past her shoulders, and a very athletic, trim build, but still with the touches of feminemity. Her most defining features are the shock of pure white hair that cuts a swath through the black, her black finger nails that appear more like claws then nails, and her eyes; like mine, they readiate like pure balefire, green and luminous, though this was not always the case. I think it's become something of the mark of my father. When I was young, my eyes were a luminous gold, and in pictures of my mother from when she was very young, hers are the same. My earliest memories of her are ones of her being deadly focused on any task at hand, to the point that it seemed she'd just shut her emotions down if she needed to. We moved around a lot in those first few years, and there are pictures of us at the occasional biker bar, hotels, and all sorts of odd places. _

_We finally settled down in southern California after being on the road for the first five years of my life, and it seemed as though mom was finally able to relax; before that, she always seemed so tense, constantly looking over her shoulder, always on gaurd. Years later I found out the reasons were because at some point a pack of garou had caught wind of us and were stalking us, as well as a group of Black Spiral Dancers that "wanted to bring us home". I still don't know if mom just ran for it, though I think she must have fought them off at some point, given the scar I later discovered on her back that suddenly appeared one day when I was about four. Even though mom was finally more relaxed, she would still look out the big front room windows of our small house, sometimes a look of concern, but often with a look of sadness. A few times I caught her crying as well, and would run up to her, begging her to feel better. She would always smile, laugh and scoop me up in her arms and hug me tightly, telling me that I made her happier then anything else ever could._

_There is one memory that sticks out in my mind, one that I feel I must bring up because it has some bearing on who I have become, and what I am. When I was about three, I remember todeling into the kitchen, looking for or doing what I have no idea, but as Iwas walking, a shiny sticker on one of my toys caught my attention, and I couldn't stop staring at it while I was walking. I felt myself press forward into something, like a light film, and then I was through, but what, I had no idea at teh time. All I knew was that I was suddenly in a strange place that looked like the kitchen, but was alive and looked odd. It scared me to no end, and I began to cry, falling onto the floor sobbing in terror. I suddebly felt a presence behind me, powerful and menacing, but with something else behind it. A voice rubbled in strange tones (draconic, I later discovered) seemed to speak to me. "Hush, my child, you are safe," it rumbled. From the burning darkness behind me, I suddenly felt a clawed reptillian hand wrap around me, gentlylifting me up. I suddenly felt secure, safe, and protected, as though my own mother or father had lifted me up. I was carried into my room, and laid almost tenderly into my small bed. When I woke up, my mother was there, waiting, a look of shearworry on her face. She had been crying, I could tell. She picked me up and held me, saying she'd never let me slip sideways like that again. Years later, it all made frightening sense to me._

_We never had a whole hell of a lot, but we were still happy and lived fairly comfortable. Mom never had a job or worked, and for the longest time I couldn't figure out how we managed to have money. When she finally told me, I laughed. Mom had money from when she was younger, apparently when she had been a part of a pack (yeah, my mom's a werewolf too, as it's hereditary), they had managed to knock over several banks owned by various prominent Glass Walkers (another garou tibe, well known for being industrious buiness men)and make off with a ton of cash; mom, being smarter then her pack, had held onto as much as she could, just in case, and very carefully had rationed what she had, which I found out was something like two point five million dollars. Smart woman. Mom's also a great cook, and the fact that I never had a weight problem growing up astounds me with all the great food I ate. She could take pig slop and make it taste like fine quizene._

_When I was five, I finally started school. I immediatley discovered I in no way or shape fitted in. Most of my classmates seemed really nervous around me, and several took this as a cue to mock, harass, and bully me, though I wasn't a slouch, and I gave back as good as I got. Mom discouraged me fighting, but I think she was always secretly proud that her little "pup" wasn't a weakling. I'll be honest, I hated school, well the social aspect anyway. I've always enjoyed learning new things, but I generally loathed my classmates. I was placed in the "mentally gifted program" which amounted to little more then being given extra work to keep me busy. We had one problem teacher (I later found out the bitch was actually a fomorii) who was both cruel and viscous; senseing something odd about me, she did everything she could to "discover" what I was. I think it was when I came home limping that mom flew off the teacher just simply vanished one day, and coincidently several "photos" were shown by my mom to the principle, showing all sorts of nasty things she'd done to the children, from small things like a spanking all the way to full blown rape and sexual abuse. The principle wasn't exactly smart, otherwise he would have asked how mom got the pictures in the first place. Truth be told, though they apparently were accurate of what she had been doing, the photos were fake; mom used one of our handier gifts on the old guy we call Beautiful Lie. I don't think I need to explain it, it's pretty obvious what it does, though I will say that it's great for getting you into places you shouldn't be or just getting you out of trouble. _

_Though I got good grades all through school, I was fairly lonley as a child. But, I had mom, so things weren't intolerable, as she did everything she could to make sure I was happy. We did some normal mother and son things, like going to theme parks and such, and then there were odder things; for example, there were some places she refused to take me, like certain camp grounds or nature preserves, and on many occasions she took me to the museum to look over the artifacts they had on the ancient pictish culture. She would often tell me about how this was where we came from, and she even knew some of the old legends and stories. One group she mentioned was the White Howlers, and expressed to me that this was our "clan". My insatiable curiousity led me to leanr as much as I could about my roots, and soon I was looking up what I could in the libraries about the White Howlers. I found almost nothing, except a few old wives tales. I was horribly confuse, and questioned mom about it. She said I'd understand and be told more when I was older. I couldn't let it go, but me being me, I decided to bide my time and see where it went from there._

_As time went on, mom kept my hair fairly long, and it kept that same radiant black color she bore as well. When I was twelve, my eyes began to change color. Mom said that the same thing happened to her at my age, and that it was normal, but none of my other classmates eyes did, and the look on my mom's face when it started was somewhat worried. I was nearly thirteen, and my bodywas begininning to go through the "fun" changes that come from being a teenager hitting puberty. The eye's, though were just the start of the physical changes I would go through. Truthfully, my transmogrification, as it were, was only just beginning..._


	3. Chapter 3

The Chronicle of Amon

Three

Little Claw set the book down for a moment, trying to process what he was reading. A loving mother suffering from depression, worried about her son? And Amon himself was almost painfully normal for being the spawn of a Black Spiral Dancer. The thing that did catch Little Claw's attention was his reaction to the Fomor teacher. There was no sign that she had scared him when he was a child, and considering how bluntly honest the journal was being, he couldn't help but suspect that even as a prechange, Amon had been much stronger then any normal child should be. Little Claw picked the journal up again to read the next section, morbidly curious to see what would happen next.

_Journal Entry Three, teens, first change, and leaving home:_

_My teenage years were not particularly eventful up until l the end of high school, when I was eight-teen. To sum up the years in between, I went through puberty, I discovered heavy metal culture and music, and I had a few girlfriends. I did okay in school, but I felt this growing darkness gnawing at me. I knew something was about to happen._

_It was a little after my eighteenth birthday. I had just finished playing a show with my first band that night, and per our usual, I ripped on certain types of people, mostly what I referred to at the time as "Facist Yuppy Jock scumbag motherfuckers". I was still pumped up from the show and two things were happening that I didn't know about; one, two of the fore mentioned "Fascist Yuppy Jock scumbag mother fukers" had been in the audience, and weren't particularly happy about my remarks (someone in the crowd saw them and proceeded to splash beer all over the Letterman jackets. Mwahaha), and were now following a little ways behind me. Second, because of the show and me coming closer to my first Change, my Rage and blood lust was running on high that night. I could smell the two as they approached closer and closer; I knew what they were planning to do, and the closer they got, the more the Rage grew. "Hey Edrick! We're gonna fuck you up, you fucking asshole! Then maybe we'll stop by and say hi to your whore of a mother" one of them yelled out. That's when I snapped._

_I can't tell you what my first change was like. Everything went black, and pure Rage took over. I finally came out of the Rage frenzy maybe a few minutes later and stood shocked at what was before me. For one thing, I was completely naked. And for another, not only was I covered in flesh and gore, but I had a chunk of one of them in my mouth. The flesh fell out of my mouth as it dropped open; the two jocks had been completely ripped to pieces, like some one had run them through a rusty mulcher. Blood dripped from my hair and skin, my nails became slightly elongated and blackened and like my mother's, looked more like claws now; the taste of the blood on my tongue created a euphoria in me. I felt strangely full, and realized that I must have eaten part of one of them. As I started coming to my senses, I suddenly felt a pang of panic strike me; I wasn't worried that I'd killed two worthless sacks of excrement, but I was out in the open, with no clothes, covered in blood, and no way to really hide or conceal the bodies (or what remained of them). I felt something shove me back from the remains, like an invisible force and suddenly green flames appeared and engulfed the bodies, leaving no traces behind. The blood and viscera on my skin began to flake off and disappear, as if some strange unseen entities were liking it off of my flesh. I stood there, too stunned for words, and jumped into the nearest dark alley I could find. I felt some strong primal force deep within myself, pushing me to react off of instinct. I decided to go with it, and felt my bones suddenly change shape; my flesh cracked and changed, long black fur sprouted all over my body and I felt my head change into a muzzle. The process took all of five seconds or so, but was more then uncomfortable, not to mention totally disconcerting. My sense of smell overwhelmed me, as did my sense of hearing. I looked into a blackish puddle, and stared at the black furred and glowing green eyed wolf I'd just turned into. I stared too long, and once again felt as though I was sliding through water, the same feeling I'd felt when I was three. I saw a world that was a dark, seemingly vile, Gothic reflection of the world, and black and twisted creatures crawled towards me, calling to me. I beheld a spirit, appearing as some parody of a doctor, wreathed in blood, which smiled and thanked me for the sustenance I had provided it. Another spirit, made of pure green, viscous flames and looking like some sort of hellish humanoid smiled a crooked smile at seeing me. "Per the orders of a higher up," the thing chuckled, "I'll show you the way home."_

_As the spirit (which I later discovered was a Balefire Elemental named Sevren) led me through the umbra, my nerves began to settle themselves. "Watch out for any others that wear the skin of the Beast of War that are not marked as the Dark Father's, bastards" it said. "what do you mean? What is this Beast of War? What the hell are these things you're telling me?" I asked, both curious and a little put off by the things cryptic statement. It burned a bit brighter, and gave me another lopsided smile. "In due time, little wolf, in due time, you'll know. You will know..."_

_It left me at the door of my home and and was gone, vanishing in a flash and leaving only noxious smelling smoke behind. I was still in the umbra, even when I entered my home through the front door. The best way I can describe it was I felt like I'd fallen into the world of Silent Hill (not the most accurate description, but honestly, other then that, I got nothin'). I found my room, and concentrated on recreating the same feeling I'd felt when I'd first fallen into this alien world. Taking a step, I crossed back into the real world. I looked around, a little dazed, my nerves finally shot; I jumped in the shower and heard a startled yell from my mother. When I got out, she was standing there, towl in hand, a look of utter sadness on her face. "Mom, something's come up, um, yeah, I don't know how to say this but-" "you're a werewolf, or garou we're called," she said interrupting me. Blink blink. "We need to talk, and quickly," she said._

"_I know this day would come," she said mournfully. "They'll be coming for you soon, and I have to let you go," she said. My eye's narrowed as I looked at the nervous wreck my mother had turned into. "Mom, I love you, but seriously, what the fuck is going on?" I said, raising my voice a little. "My my, aren't we just a tad temperamental, and being so rude to your dear mother. Tisk tisk," came a voice behind us. My mother's eye's went wide and she uttered a single name. "Xercxes"._

_I felt the Rage start to kick in and my instincts told me that this was an intruder. I felt my self start to grow suddenly larger, and my already claw like nails growing longer and sharper. "Get the fuck out of our home, or so help me I'll rip your goddamn head off and shit down your throat!" I yelled, inadvertantly quoting one of my favorite lines. "Honey, shift down," my mother suddenly and sternly yelled at me. Hearing her voice made me pause and calm myself. "That's better, cub," the one called Xercxes said._

_I turned around slowly and looked into the eye's of a man I would come to revile. He had slicked back black hair, a jaundiced looking face, and green eye's like mine, but rather then having "whites" around his eyes, he had a pitch black color. He was dressed in a black trench coat and a button downed black shirt and black tie, accented with a glowing green-jewled tie clip. His pants were a black with a single blood red stripe down the right side, and he wore knee high military style leather boots. He had a smug, cocky look on his face as his eye's bored into mine. "well little Edrick, it's time for you to come with me and come back to the hive." He looked at my mother, a smoldering, arrogance permeating the air. "Tell me my dear, did you really think we wouldn't find you, or him? We've been watching for a long time now, waiting for this to happen. And frankly, I'm glad you raised him like this. Hopefully this will give him a bit of an edge when he goes through his rite of passage," he chuckled. I glared with all the hatred of my being and slowly counted to ten before I spoke. "I'll go with you willingly under two conditions," I said. Xercxes smiled back. "Ah, so the little wolf thinks he's in a position to bargain, does he? And why should I grant any of your requests rather then just knocking you out and dragging you out that door and into the umbra, hmmm?"_

_What Xercxes did not know was that the Balefire elemental, Sevren, had returned to my side, and I was able to actually see the umbra as clear as day now, and have been able to ever since. He gave me a signal, and I held out my hand. Green flames suddenly appeared like a ball of living flames in my hand and now it was my turn to smile evily. Xercxes's eye's narrowed but the smug smile remained. "By all means, try it. I will easily survive you're little fireball, pup, and then I'll make you sorry you ever tried to fight me." My smile persisted. "But that's where you're wrong, Xercxes. There's a Balefire elemental waiting in the umbra right now. Now, I said I have two conditions for coming with you, or else I'll destroy myself and everything and one in this house." The flames hovering above my hand grew and intensified noticeably. Xercxces was no longer smiling, and the arrogance was gone from his voice when next he spoke. "Well played, little wolf, well played. Now name your terms."_

"_First off, you swear to leave my mother in peace. She is not to be harmed or harassed. You've ignored her this long you say, you can go back to ignoring her just as easily. Second, you're going to tell me everything right here and now, along with my mother. After that, I'll go with you." _

_Once again, Xercxes smug smile returned. "This is not only acceptable, but pleasing to me as well. I prefer an intelligent Spiral to the slobbering monster. I agree to these conditions. But if you renege, your mother will spend the rest of her miserable days in the depths of Malfeas. Do we understand one another?" I nodded my head, and he launched into a full history of the Black Spiral Dancer tribe. He explained what the Umbra was, what the Wyrm was, who and what we were; basically, the full indoctrination. My mother supplied other details as well, about different tactics that were used, the kinds of packs she had encountered, and both provided information about our garou "cousins" She told me that she too was a Black Spiral Dancer, and had had to fight several garou to keep us safe. She told me she was an Athro, or fourth rank, and her auspice, or preordained role withing werewolf society, was that of a Gahliard, the keepers of records and the tales singers. Xerxces revealed himself to be a fallen Glasswalker who had "converted" for reasons he would not specify. His was also the rank of Athro, and his auspice was that of the Phillidox, the judges and tacticians of our society. By the end of it, my head was swimming. This was a lot to take in. Everything they said made sense, and I felt the truth of their words deep within my soul. Still, it was a little difficult to deal with. When they finished, I had more then a better understanding of our nature, what the triat was, and why we were servaints of the Wyrm._

"_All right," I said, "You've held up your end of things. Let me grab a few things and I'll go with you." Xercxes nodded. "V ery good, cub. You will not need a whole lot, and be prepared to get a little...dirty," he laughed a high pitched, almost painful sound. I said goodbyes to my mother, who was now crying her eyes out. "Don't let it ruing who you are, son," was the last thing she said to me. Xercxes gave a vicious grin at the remark then opening the door, looked to me. "Come, Edrick. The Black Spiral Labyrinth awaits." _


	4. Chapter 4

The Chronicle of Amon

Four

The dark room seemed to have an air of menace now, and Little Claw was becoming more and more nervous. He knew that what he was about to read would probably give him nightmares for a long time, but still, he read on, and mentally prepared himself for the horrors he knew he would soon be reading about.

_Journal Entry Four, Enter the Labyrinth_

_The journey to the Hive was an experience I shall not soon forget. Xercxes and I entered the umbra and began making our way towards the Hive of Dark Insights, and I was shown the different types of banes and spirits that could aid us. I had a natural affinity for communicating with them, which made Xercxes both annoyed and intrigued. "Who taught you that gift, pup?" he asked, a bit of edge in his voice. I stared at him blankly. "What are you talking about? I guess being able to talk with spirits is something of a gift, isn't it?" I asked, still confused. Xercxes rolled his eyes. "Never mind, but let's move a bit quicker. The last thing we need is the damn local garou ambushing us."_

_When we came to the Hive I stared in both fear and wonder. H' rugglings, or sludge elementals, crawled up from the ground, oozing this way and that, leaving raw sewage in there wake. The smell was, and still is, horrid. My balefire elemental, or firmling, Sevren, remained near to me, his appearance shrunk to that of a small wisp of flame close to my side. The atmosphere was toxic as well, and I caught sight of several Hoglings, or smog elementals, flying through the air, leaving noxious fumes in their wake, there forms shifting and intangible. The sky's overhead were blackened with the overwhelming toxicity, and that's when we came to the entrance of the Hive itself. Two Black Spiral Dancers guarded the entrance; ones jaw was twisted so that it opened horizontally, his skin mottled and pealing. The other, which I presume was female at some point, stood clutching a spear of some sort, her breasts sagging, and her nipples, which had turned into small mouths, snapping in the air. Her skin was completely rotted off in some areas of her body, and her face...imagine a Picasso painting, except real, with a hint of Bosch to it, and I think you'll get a pretty good idea of what I was looking at. Upon seeing Xercxes, they parted and allowed us to enter the Hive through the cave entrance. He saw my face and laughed with a hint of cruelty. "Ah yes, the Metis are such wonderful shock troops. Most can't pass in public, as you saw, but they are very effective as cannon fodder." We slipped out of the umbra and began our decent._

_The path led us deep underground, and our only lights were the occasional balefire torch, and the bit of light that Sevren gave off. Here and there I saw various skulls embedded into the walls, fountains of blood and slime, and bit's of flesh hung in some ritualistic manner. Various tunnels branched off of this main one, and led to small antechambers. Most acted as make-shift dens for the other Spirals, and it shocked me at the time what they were doing. One was viciously sodomizing a young girl who couldn't have been more then thirteen. Her piteous screams echoed throughout the cavern, until the Spiral reached his climax, shifted to his war form, and ripped the girls head off. He sat basking in the after glow, greedily drinking from the dead girls stump of a neck. I thought I was going to be sick, yet somehow controlled myself. The Spiral saw us standing there, and smiled at me, then quickly bowed to Xercxes. We pressed forward. I glanced in another of the dens and saw another Spiral, this one totally bald, skin shriveled, fingernails gone, and the pointed tips of his finger bones jutting out. He rocked back and forth, a bowl containing some concoction of blood and bile on the floor next to him. He muttered to himself about the epoch of corruption, and drew spiraled glyphs on the walls with the substance in the bowls, sometimes licking the filth off of his fingers. Another room contained a weapons casche of guns, explosives, and various other weapons I couldn't recognize. "We have some rather wealthy, Wyrm tainted benefactors," Xercxes said, nodding to the room._

_We continued down the tunnel until at last we reached what appeared to be the central meeting place, which was not the Pit. I was brought before the alpha, a lithe beauty who's voice conveyed complete visciouness, her blond her streaked with what looked like black oil. As I took her in, I realized she was doing the same to me as well, when her mouth finally opened, a long pointed tongue with a sharp edge emerged and tasted my sweat. Knowing the nature of what was now my people, I held my ground. "Mmmmm, you taste so sweet, little cub. Perhaps if you fail the Labyrinth, I shall taste that sweet flesh of yours again and again, even if it's cold!" she laughed, her fangs glinting in the low light as the tongue waggled. I was taken to a young Theurge, and she looked to be only two or three years older then me. She had a small, almost fragile frame, and her movements were almost delicate in nature. Her eyes were what marked her; one was pure white with only a small black pupil, and the other was solid black, like a black gem stone. She sat cross-legged, examining a pile of animal innards at her feet. "Prepare him or it's your head, Carianna," Xercxes growled at her. "I will do as I should, and the dark father will determine our worth," she retorted, a detatched smile on her face. As she bowed, I couldn't help but give her a cocked smile. Xercxes departed, licking his lips as he called to another spiral to bring him a "light snack"._

"_Come, sit, we have much to talk about," she gestured in front of her. I sat and stared into her eyes, as her mismatched eyes seemed to bore into my soul. "I see you've been touched by the Dark Father already, and yet there is a hint of something more," she cooed. "I will teach you what you will need to survive the trial of the labyrinth, and I will help you to understand the mysteries of the umbra and beyond. The only question is, will you submit to my teachings?" she asked, a glint in the black eye. "I will do what is required," I responded in turn. Carianna smiled. _

_During the next month, I spent almost all of my time with Carianna. We would spend much of the day in the umbra, traveling around the Hive and the outlying areas. We often communed with banes, and she imparted much of her understanding of the Triad during our lessons. Carianna revealed to me that she had once been a Child of Gaia, and had fallen do to her dabbling in things that the garou nation feared and reviled. In the end, she was no longer just dabbling, and she was finally drawn into the Labyrinth itself. Her insights into the nature of things had earned her respect amongst the Hive. Anyone else would have believed her to be completely insane. And though barley 24, her insights had aided her in achieving third rank, adren as we call it, but had left her somewhat...disconnected at times. "Our insights into the the nature of the Wyrm can sometimes leave us touched by the Father," she told me. "And those that are are most respected by us." I studied her for a moment as a bane scuttled past us, and it hit me. "Only through sacrifice may we glean knowledge, and because of the Wyrm's state, the knowlege drives most mad," I remarked. Carianna nodded approvingly, and we continued walking. "You're grasping concepts it takes most years to understand. Perhaps what I first sensed in you..." and like she sometimes did, Carianna trailed off._

_At the end of the month, when Luna was waning and crescent, I was called into the Pit, that inner sanctum of the Hive that is jealously guarded against all outsiders, often times including other Black Spiral Dancer's. I walked in, wearing my usuall boots, black jeans and black t-shirt, and was greeted by a sight that stunned me. The entire Hive had gathered, all clad in ritualistic clothing of various shapes and styles. The alpha, Xercxes, and Carianna stood near the center, waiting for me. As I approached, the veil began to weaken, and I could see Sevren and what appeared to be a hundred banes gathered. Above all, the Whip-poor-will presided, the Green Dragon also in attendence. Lot of people here ofr little old me, I thought, somewhat unsettled. The alpha and Xercxes began stepping back, and as I approached closer, Carianna began to trace the outline of a labyrinth spiral into the ground which glowed and radiated like black flames. The entire Hive began to chant wildly as Carianna smiled at me. "Behold the gateway to the shattered Labyrinth, Temple Obscurum. Within lies the hidden truths of the Father, buried within us. Come forth, and enter the Labyrinth." Without any further prompting, I lept the gateway of the Black Spiral Labyrinth. _


	5. Chapter 5

The Chronicle of Amon

Five

Little Claw was pale and began to feel nauseated. Mother above, these _things_ were truly beyond redemption. He didn't want to read another word of the sickening narrative. He didn't think he could stand to read anymore. He'd just take the book back, preform a ritual that would cleanse it of it's obvious Wyrm taint, and leave it to the elders. This was too much for him and he began to suspect that the journal was a trap to taint the unsuspecting and naive. He moved to pick the book up and a wreath of green flame surrounded it, cutting him off. _You have got to be kidding me_, Little Claw thought to himself. He realised that he wouldn't be able to just take the book with him and pass it on; whatever spirits were imbued within the journal were obviously going to protect it, and he wasn't high enough rank or skilled enough to deal with this kind of unforeseen defense. Little Claw shook his head, realising there wasn't anything he could do. No, he would have to swallow his fear and disgust and continue reading; the information presented before him was too valuable to leave behind, and with how things had been going in the world, the shape changers needed every advantage against the Wyrm's minions they could get. _Mother give me strength_, he thought silently, and sat down in the chair once more. The flames immediately vanished.

He turned the page and was suddenly confused. _What the hell?_, he thought. It wasn't a normal journal entry. Rather, it looked like a collection of notes and definitions, and carefully drawn diagrams and images, carefully cut from their original source and glued into the journal. The top of the page simply read

_The First and Second Circles of the Shattered Labyrinth._

_The first circle, the dance of insight- Darkness iniates the process, where upon the potential Dancer is tested by the Praecogitae (a bane of some kind or a possible manifestation of the Labyrinth?) by being shown dark truths within his/her own soul. Here one will find painful understanding of yourself. Also, the potential inevitably learns the gift known as Bane protector, in which the Dancer can now summon Banes to his/her aid if it is the best interest of the Wyrm. _

_The second circle, the dance of rage- The Dancer learns the use and power of unrestrained Rage. Only by allowing oneself to enter a state of pure berserker frenzy may one defeat this level of the Labyrinth. The Infuriati (more banes or manifestations of the Labyrinth?) shall taunt, jab, ignite the flames of Rage within the Dancer's heart of hearts._

The rest of the page showed a spiral diagram containing nine circles, and names in Latin that Little Claw could not understand. Sketches of what appeard to be Banes accompanied each written section, as well as annotations about the Banes behavior. The next page caused Little Claw to pale. The writing was indistinct, often scribbled, sometimes written in a different language. The words and phrases he did catch were "I have seen the truth within myself", "AMON", "Forsaken father", and "Taste it's blood".

The next pages returned to the original style of the journal, and Little Claw pressed forward.

_Five- rebirth and transmogrification_

_Trying to describe what happened and what I saw inside the Labyrinth is almost impossible. For one thing, the Labyrinth is not some plain temple of stone, its more like a hedge maze in that it's very much ALIVE. It reacts, and it's Bane inhabitants react to each individual dancer, so the experience is unique for each individual. What I saw...burned into me a knowledge I almost wish I never learned. I saw the monster that lived inside of me, that had lived inside of me. I saw that I was born of a monster, had loved a monster. I didn't see these things in my minds eye, but they were shown to me across the walls of the Labyrinth, played out like a grand psychodrama. I saw the horrid things I had done when I first changed, and as I stared, the dismembered heads floated beside me asking "Don't you feel anything for what you did to us, Edrick? Doesn't this make you feel just disgusted with yourself?" I smiled at them and shook my head. "You aren't real. And for the record, you assholes would have grown up to spawn more yuppie fucking scum, and then your kids would have continued the process. There's too many people like you alive already; far as I'm concerned, you provoked the beast and got what you deserved." _

_With that, the heads vanished, and green flames lit the way. A voice, gravelly and disembodied rang forth with maddening force. "Forward or back, child? Do you challenge the next level, or will you return a rank one?" Without hesitation, I pushed forward. I walked right into a mass of violence. Imagine a mix of an inferno mixed with a Slayer circle pit, and you have an idea. I immediately shifted, flexing my fingers and letting my claws shine. I remembered my training and realized that I would have to push myself and fall over the edge into a state of unrestrained rage. I saw all the people that had ever caused me pain, I saw everyone I had ever wanted to hurt. My claws seemed to do nothing as I tore my way through the mass. But I did not expended my Rage, the spiritual essence which makes us stronger, faster, and allows for us to heal and shift. No, I let it grow and grow, until I thought I would explode. This is it, I thought. And I let go. When I came to, everything around me had fallen, and the path before me was not further down the Spiral but out. Still reeling from the experience, I stumbled dizzily back into the physical world. I realised by the shocked gasp of an older theurge that something was off. Upon taking my first steps forward, I realized I hwas in my wolf, or Lupus form, and that my tail felt somehow off. "OH my dark father, he has the continence of the demon Amon!" The older theurge began to laugh and shake, his extra eyes embedded in his chest looking around wildly. My tail was that of a dragons, long and deadly, with a razored tip. As I shifted back into my human or homid form, all I could do was repeat the words "Amon", and stumble slowly towards the one who had mentored me. She handed me the pen and paper I asked her to give me once I had returned and she gladly did so. What was seen on the previous page was what I wrote that moment, my body still bleeding slightly. Her black eye seemed like a black hole at that moment, and she smiled at me. "Welcome to the tribe, Black Spiral Dancer Amon. Welcome, my brother." I gazed up at her, and as I stared into her black eye, I saw a vision. Whatever was to come, I had proved not only to them, but to myself, that I could do this, and that I wouldn't stop until the Wyrm was strong enough to stop the Weaver and things become what I thought at the time they should be. But in my heart of hearts, I knew then, that the real Wyrm was what we needed, not the corrupted Wyrm. I vowed that night that I would serve the Wyrm as he should be served. I would become a force of death and destruction, and nothing would stop me. How naive I was... _


End file.
